A Guide to Shame
by Moral Pass
Summary: The sudden death of her wife leaves Emma Swan alone to raise their two children. Haunted by memories of the whirlwind love they shared for so long, Emma begins to fall apart. Alone with herself, the weight of her grief and responsibilities persisting to be the death of her, until she hears her voice again.
1. Chapter 1

2010

It was a day, just like any day, except this day, I woke up to a louder version of the chaos that is usually brought upon my morning.

"Henry Daniel!" Regina shouted, "what the f-f-uck is this?"

Oh shit, I thought as I threw the sheets off me, and went out to face the monster my wife became when she was brought to say the F word, in a t shirt and underwear. I saw her throwing clothing out the door, then a laptop, a television, and I started walking faster, "Regina!" I called, an alarm clock, "hey!" I peeked around the door, to see Henry and a girl hiding under the blankets on his bed, as far away as they could.

"You have no respect!" She yelled, louder than she had since I crashed her car, the exact same words "get out! Get out!" She stomped, and I almost laughed, but it wasn't funny, because she was so pissed.

"Ma!" Henry said when he saw me, then Regina whipped around.

My eyes opened wide, as I was about to get the best of this, "did you know about this?" She asked, "huh? Our son has been having sex, in our house!"

"Uh." I replied, I hadn't known, but where else was he going to do this? School? Please, no. My son has class. "No?" I replied.

Then she laughed, "right, but what should I believe you? You told him he could drink here, too, so why not turn our house into the town brothel instead!"

"Regina, how about we go-"

"Shut up!" She screamed, I jumped back, "get her out!"

"Regina!" I yelled, she whipped around, eyebrows raised, "look, I'm mad, too, but let's at least give the girl five minutes to get dressed and,"

"You're right!" She replied, "we can take her home, and tell her parents all about her little escapade." She looked to the girl, pretty girl, but her hair was faded blue, so I guess it made me wonder where my son found her, and if he used protection, but I couldn't ask in front of her, she was already crying.

I shook my head at Henry and his friend, "okay, hon, come on, we'll meet them downstairs." I said, wrapping my arm around her shoulder as she exited, "you okay?"

She jerked away from me and down the stairs, directly into the laundry room, where she threw on a pair of sweats and a zip up hoodie. "You look gorgeous when you're throwing girls out of our son's room."

She glared at me, but with the hit of a smile as she tucked a picked of hair behind her ear. "I want her out."

"I know, but it would only add insult to injury if you saw her naked too, she might take it as you hitting on her, then sue us for sexual harassment and emotional trauma."

Then she smiled, and I remembered that I wasn't the one in trouble, because I'm a grown ass woman, also married to her, we're basically equal.

Except she's scary and I am that parent that everyone loves and talks to her kid's friends about sex and what acid was like before people stopped making it right.

Regina is the mom who kid's ask if she wants help doing the dishes, where they ask me if I can order them pizza. Which I do, because they eat it with me and talk to me about tattoos.

I guess that's just because I never wanted to be a parent, or I never thought about it. I never wanted to get married or sign a lease, and it's funny to look back on a time where I hated everything that I have become. I guess i never gave it a chance, because I never met someone who I would want to spend a lifetime with, or sign a lease with. I never met someone who I could stand long enough to find out their birthday, let alone forget it.

I never knew that I could love someone even when they were screaming before I had brushed my teeth, but I did and I do. I have, for the better part of my life.

She was running around the kitchen 5 minutes later, having received a phone call from work, now she was screaming at herself, and at me.

"Fuck, Emma," she cursed, slamming her phone on the counter, "I need to leave."

I nodded, moving around the island, "what's wrong."

She shook her head, taking mouthwash from underneath the sink, "my patient," she smiled, after spitting, so her teeth were a bit blue, "he woke up."

I grinned, because it was adorable, and amazing, "that's great." I told her.

She took a drink from the faucet before pulling her hair up and rushing past me, "I have to go."

"Okay." I said, and I shouldn't feel sad, because she had saved a life and I should be proud, but a part of me wanted her to stay. "Regina," I said quietly.

Then she turned around, she had that sparkle in her eyes, she smiled, like she'd forgotten about the past twenty minutes, "yeah?"

"I," I shook my head, then moved to hug her tightly, "I'm glad he's awake." I said, and she hugged me back, sighing into my hair.

"Me, too." She replied, pulling back to grin baby-wide once more, "I gotta go." She said, and I watched with my thumb nail in my mouth as she slammed the door after her. Then I placed my hand on my stomach as it began to twist and turn.

But I shook it off, because I had a hooligan to deal with.

It was all going to be fine.

2010

Something that was always strange to me was how people deal with loss. I never really lost people, you know, the most I ever lost was my fuckin' dignity, but hey, who hasn't. The thing about that is, you can always find that shit. You can't find someone who dies, which is weird. It doesn't make sense to call it loss, if it can't be found?

I call bullshit.

If I look at the ceiling long enough, I start to see shapes, a whole world within my own. I liked to give the people, the ponies, the shapes, a life. The green string man over by the window, just found a slice of pie that he wanted to spend his life with, but they only knew each other through the spider web, she lived over by the dresser.

They couldn't meet, and they hated that their love was from a distance, but they sent messages through the dust vine, so no one else could see. Except me, they prayed to me each night to bring them to one another, soon they started to think that I wasn't listening to them, and I wasn't, I was too concerned with the half nipple by the door.

That was a story.

"Swong!"

"Ji-eh," I jumped, or cringed at the sound of Ruby's voice. I sat up in a gasp, pulling my greasy hair into a bun, a cinnabun. That's what I named it, who knows. Then, pounding feet up the steps, and before a second my door cracked open and Ruby stood in all her glory.

"Wassup bitch?" She asked, "I brought you your fucking kids."

I sniffed, "someone is extra vulgar today, yes?" I asked.

Ruby chuckled, "yeah, well, I've been saving it for you. You should be fucking proud of me! I only cussed like," she paused, "six times these past couple of days."

"Wow, you should get paid to do this."

"Right?" She replied happily, "so what's been up? You doin' better?"

I shrugged and smiled, "I'm good."

"Okay, I wasn't going to say this, I'm trying to be nice, but I think we're past this point," she sighed, "you fuckin' stink. Like, really."

"Okay," I laughed.

"Really." She nodded. "I'm not being nice, like 'oh hey, you kinda smell a lil' funky.' No, I mean, 'you haven't fucking showered for days and I can tell, so if you get in right now, I can stay,'"

"You were staying anyway." I scolded. Ruby just wore that shit eating grin.

I moved into the bathroom and began to rid myself of my clothes, now I could smell it, and it was me. I smelled bad, and it's pretty shit when you can smell your own stench and wanted to walk away.

I closed my eyes as my sweats fell to the ground, along with the panties that were loose enough to head with them. With a sigh, I went to turn on the water.

When I did, the familiar chill when down my spine, but instead of turning around I closed my eyes and held my breath.

"You aren't her." I said firm as I could.

After a few minutes, just after I allowed myself to breath, "then who am I?" She asked.

I gasped, surprised when I shouldn't' have been, "fuck."

"I don't know about that." She replied.

"Please stop, please," I began to feel grief overcome me, "stop." I wanted to turn around and be selfish, to see her, even though I knew it would be bad, but I wanted to see her so bad.

"You never used to ignore me in the bathroom." Her tongue clicked, "well, not always."

I almost laughed, "funny."

"Yeah, I should write it down."

Then I did laugh, "you know you won't."

She sighed, and I could feel the cool air, "you're right. Emma," she said quietly. "Emma, look at me." I hand landed on my back, and I froze, as if it were a bullet lodged in the columns and I was paralyzed.

"I can't." I said. "I want," I breathed, shook my head, "I want to, but I can't, Regina."

The hand fell away, then there were footsteps, "I miss you." I nodded. "I wish you would see me."

My throat constricted, "are you going?"

"For now." She replied, and just as soon as, the heaviness left the air and I couldn't breathe again.

"Fuck," I said in a breathe, falling to the floor, finally looking to where she was, and waiting a moment before stepping into the boiling spray of water.

There is this feeling, it feels like my body is moving faster than my mind or maybe it's the other way around.

1994

Her hair whipped away in the wind, hitting her in the face as it came around. She would try to spit it out, pull strands from between her teeth, but it always found it's way back because she couldn't stop smiling. I would look over at her, she would glare at me.

"Eyes on the road, Bird!" She would yell.

We were driving up the pacific coast, Henry, just a new life, was sound asleep in the back seat. Something we liked to do was put earmuffs on him, so we could still be the loud fuckers we always have been. She was shouting the lyrics to an old song, and slapping her crossed legs to the beat. I didn't know the words, so I sang a loud chorus of 'dun na na' to the beat, with the occasional 'I don't know the words!'

We were living, going ninety on a deserted road pushing to go faster but our piece of shit truck wouldn't allow for anything faster, even now we were at risk of it shitting out on us. When you're living like this, it's as if no one and nothing can hurt you. That's how we felt, Regina would say that she felt like the world was giving her special attention in those moments.

That was a really beautiful way of looking at life. Where sometimes it feels as if we are unimportant, ugly creatures that live a short and pointless life, it is nice to forget about what the world we live in demands of us, and just live as if it didn't exist. Life is taken too seriously, the rock floating in nothingness hardly cares if we go to work. But, life has been taken too seriously for too long to change anything about it.

Today though, today we could just be free. For the first tim in what felt like fucking forever I wasn't pregnant, I could finally drive, because for a while my stomach would get in the war and my short little legs just wouldn't reach the pedal, It was an ordeal, I was a very large pregnant woman.

I loved to drive, I was good at it, meaning better than Regina, who always got choked up driving any faster than 75. Me, however, I thought that maybe if I drove fast enough, I would start flying.

Not in this piece of shit truck, though. Honestly, it was probably a bad idea in the first place to be going this fast, especially with the child who I had just birthed in the backseat. I would be damn pissed if I had killed him after all that time he spent inside of me. Also, he's going to get an earful, because the entire time he was baking inside of me, I couldn't eat anything enjoyable, except maybe french fries, but they had to be made at an actual restaurant, not fast food. As commanded by Regina.

Regina, who was laughing and trying to sing along to a song that she'd never heard before and the air dries her teeth out and makes her face feel as if it's stretched. I grinned as I pressed down on the brake, seeing as there was a curve in the road a few miles ahead, and slowing this shitbox down would take at least half that.

She pulled her hair up and put her hand on my thigh, I smiled over at her and her smile fell, "eyes on the freaking road!" She yelled.

I laughed and close my eyes, her hand ripped from my leg and gripping the wheel. "Pussy."

"Nyehneh," she mocked. "Sorry I don't want you to kill us with your terrible driving."

I laughed aloud, "me? Terrible?" She nodded, "you wanna drive?" I asked.

"No, thanks." She replied, I heard her turn and stroke Henry's cheek, "he's so little."

I smiled, "yeah," I answered quietly. I couldn't believe that I had a baby, and even more unbelievable, I had a person. I had a family, one that I loved and that I hoped to hell loved me. I think they did, I would like that. I felt so much love, so much that it scared me.

It was fucking terrifying. Scarier than driving 100 down an interstate road at 3 am with broken headlights, scarier than running through the desert on a summer night with no shoes, scarier than all the stupid things I've ever done, and I have done a lot. It was scarier now because now, now I was scared that I could lose this feeling. It was the kind of feeling that can't be described, and I know how I talk about this, like love is the only thing in the world that is worth dying for, and coming from me, it must sound rich. Coming from me, who has almost killed herself twice just to show that she could, that I had the courage.

Love, it is worth dying for. I feel truly, truly sick for the people who could think otherwise. For the people who never had it, not like I do, like lucky people do.


	2. Chapter 2

2009

This day, as everyday, was horrible, and difficult, and impossible, because Regina had left yesterday morning to see her patient, and she hadn't come back yet. Which was awful, because we had a good thing going most of the time.

She was supposed to be back by 6, because she was supposed to take Henry to school, and I was supposed to take Siren to day care.

She wasn't back, and I was here with my two kids, both of whom were screaming at me to get moving, when they didn't realize that I was literally frozen in motion.

Diaper bag, cheerios, which I was not, lunch, which he didn't want, sippy cup, sticky, dammit.

"Ma! Come on I'm going to be late!" Henry yelled, chewing an apple impatiently by the door. "Ma!" He kicked the door.

Oh hell n0, "Henry Daniel!" I shouted, "shut up, and hold on, can't you see I'm fuc-kukukuh, nope." I trailed off, smiling at Siren, who thanks to me, his first spoken word was 'bitch.' Try explaining that to your saint of a wife who never cusses, at least not in front of the baby.

"Where's Mom?" Henry asked, picking the diaper bag up.

I sighed, pulling my monster hair into a ponytail, because I was eating more of it that I was swallowing air, "I don't know." I told, "late, I guess."

He nodded, "well, I'm late anyways, so we could drop Bean off then would you come in with me, or else I get detention."

I shook my head, "yeah, fine, thanks," I threw the keys to my jeep at him, "start the car, I'll be right there." I said, just as my son began to cry, the small one.

Henry called him Bean, because he hated me for naming him Siren, but Regina pinky promised I could name him since she named Henry and I had an obsession with the mystical and magical, so Siren. Like, sear-in not like sigh-ren, because his name was cool, not a death sentence.

Yeah, I was the only one who was down with that, but hey, it's still his name. So, I win.

"Hey, no, no," I cooed, pulling him into my arms, his curly hair was blond, but it was going to grow darker, not like Henry's but like, dirty blond. It made me happy, that he'd look just a little different than all of us.

When Regina was pregnant with him, I would draw on her stomach at night, when she was sleeping. She always listened to this weird, French alternative music. I hated it, it was worse than Blink 182, so I made her wear headphones.

That was one of the biggest fights we ever had.

So, my petty way of getting back at her for yelling at me, and putting two pillows between us, and making me get my own blanket every night, was to draw on her belly. It sounds like so cute, romantic thing, but she hated it, I used to draw on mine when I was carrying Henry and she would bitch about it being toxic and he would be born with three eyes and half a nose.

It was those water color markers, harmless, I wouldn't use sharpie on my skin, she was just over protective that way. I loved it, I loved her, I loved how easy it was to find a button and press it until it gave way.

I didn't have many of those, but she was stomping on one just by being late, because while I had hardly any order, I liked to keep what I had in place, because well, where else was it going to go. I had two kids, one of whom was a teenager with acne and hormones.

And a baby, who was about to be late to day care, which if you didn't know, is a huge penalty, because given he can't walk distances or read, I had to walk him into the room, and the overseer would shoot me in the chest with daggers and lasers, because she was such a stickler for punctuality.

So, I was jogging to the car, hoping that I didn't drop my baby, or my mug, or my phone, because all of which were crucial to my existence at the moment.

"Henry, call your mother." I told him, tossing him my phone as I struggled with the buckle, as fucking always. I knew that there were crumbs in the click-thing, whatever it was called, and I always forgot about it by the time that I had time to even get it out, however I would go about doing that.

With a final push and dramatic exhale, I got it in, "haha! Yeah." I was pretty excited, and planted a kiss on my Bean's nose. It was catchy, and cute, Henry did well. "She answer?" I asked.

"No." He replied.

"Fuck," I said under my breath, as I jammed out of the drive way. "Call the hospital."

Henry groaned, but listened, because he just felt that need to be dramatic real quick before he listened to me. He acted as if I thought he was going to argue. I guess he just thought it was funny to piss me off, or fight with me, but he never won, and what's the point of starting a fight you know you can't win?

Well, I mean, I can't really ask that, since I've had more than my share of beatdowns, verbal, physical, all that. It wasn't that I tried to be confrontational, I was just me, and people couldn't handle that. I am kind of a lot to handle, when I slow down enough to realize that, I see that the reason I am so worn out is because I don't know how to stop. I feel like I have to finish everything for everyone even when I am not asked, but at least shit gets done.

I don't know, I'm everywhere when you get right down to it.

"They said she's not answering her pages." He told slowly.

I nodded, speeding up as the light turned yellow, "rude."

"Mm." Henry replied. He was just like her.

By the end of the day, I had not one, but three drunk teens in my house, a wife MIA, and spit up in my bra. I had currently been listening to Bad Religion for the past three hours, while they acted like I couldn't hear the laughing and slurring.

God, this is why I hate Henry at this age, he acts like I don't know shit, 'yeah, Mom, we're just going to play video games, see you later,' please. Sneaking around used to be my life.

I'd been calling Regina for the past, well, all day. It was hard to focus on work when I knew that I hard to keep doing it into the wee hours of the night. This was worse, than all the other times, because this time she hadn't even bothered to call, or answer.

I'd spoken to our favorite nurse Evelyn about 4 times, to the point where she searched for her, couldn't find her. At this point, I wasn't sure whether I was more pissed of or scared shitless.

I told her, when we first got together, I ain't raisin' no babies. But, we see how well that worked out.

Yeah, it didn't.

Maybe there was a god, because Siren was down by nine, and I mean down, he fell asleep on the couch, without his rhino. He never slept without it, because it was a pillow and he hated all other pillows since he was so itty that they left his head at a crook.

I decided that it was good Regina wasn't here, because I was about to go entertain myself with my stupid teenagers and try to pretend that she isn't dead or worse, cheating on me. Wait, dead is worse, dead is worse. I could deal with a cheating, I think, because then she could still help me with child care. Doctor money and all.

Which, used to be shit until she got her big girl job overseeing her department. Honestly, it was the best night, she came home, started crying, then I was crying, Henry was confused, but he hugged it out.

Then, we found out she was pregnant.

Right, you're thinking 'lesbians, surprise?' Yeah, no, we were trying, but she had always had complications in the past, we never got excited until after the first trimester, then after the second we started painting, after the third, we were stoked. For a bit.

She was the most beautiful mother, I have pictures from the springs we used to go to before we moved to the city for work. I have them taped to the bathroom mirror, she hates it, took them down a couple of times, but I put them up again. I know I don't need a reminder, but I just like to appreciate perfection when I recognize it.

I have never seen, or heard, or met anything as perfect as she is.

But right now, fuck her. Right now, I don't want to look at her, because I'm mad. So, fuck bitches. Okay, maybe that was a bit much.

Nah.

"Hey, punks," I shouted, banging on the door so hard it shook, "shit."

I heard them mumbling and clanging bottles around, music turning down, and I laughed, but I put on my serious face so I could fuck with them.

Henry opened the door, leaning against it, "video games." He said.

I laughed, "right," I shoved past him, "smells fun in here, liver failure, ah," I laughed, falling onto his bed, "What's up, kiddies, didn't want to hang with me?"

Henry closed his door, sat back on his chair, next to Miles on the bean bag, and Curly, because he hated his name, on the futon. The futon, the most unflattering shade of orange, little did these boys know just how many times his mother and I, well.. Also, Ruby, some guys she brought home, some girls, too.

They slept here. It was amusing, and at least none of us had any diseases, so no one needed to get a shot of penicillin, except maybe the upholstery. I'll keep that to myself.

"Mom, we were just talking about," Henry began, twirling.

"Girls." Curly piped up, and I raised a brow.

"Girls?" I asked, Curly nodded, but everyone else look utterly mortified. "You three virgins?" I asked, "please."

"We're not-" Miles began.

"Hey!" Henry interrupted. "Mm-mm."

I smirked, "well, no matter, because we all know that come down to it, I've had it more than all of you combined. " I told, as a joke, but it was still true. Ah, I used to be so cool.

"Mom," Henry gagged. His friends just laughed.

"Hey I'm-" I began, but I heard Siren mumbling in the next room, "damn." I sighed, swinging myself up. "Stay in here," I pointed at Henry, "don't fucking tell your mom."

"You're my mom," he joked, which never got old, except always.

I just stopped, and gave the same exhausted response in the same exhausted voice, "yeah, you know what I mean."

He laughed, "no problem, tell mother, get hit."

"Oh, I'm sure you would like it a lot more that you think." I teased, forgetting my limits a second, slamming the door, before yelling back, "forget I said that." I could hear them chuckling as I spun in circle twice, then entered Siren's room.

Which was dope.

So, when Regina painted it, she did it this shade of green, that was still blue, but it was really dark and since his room was facing the yard which was trees galore, it was the darkest in the house. I wanted it to be our room, but it was honestly the size of our bathroom, which mattered to some but not all.

So, anyways, she painted, I helped of course, but she was home more often in that time, since her Chief held her position until a couple months after the baby was born. I had been at the shop more and more, because Ruby and I had just bought it and wanted to reinvent it after firing the dead weight, which left us drowning in appointments that we had zero time for.

Being us, two strong and caffeine infused lovers of business ownership, we got it done. Now, we had the second ranked parlor in the city, which was a BFD.

Then, we hired Eddy, who fucking kicked ass, from Vegas and we loved him, sarcastic and bearded, he fit in perfectly.

I stayed home more, Regina was getting into some sort of zen, and then announced when she was four months that she would be heading to Michigan for a month. To meditate.

All I could say was, 'is it because I drew a dick shark on you last night?'

Given, I never got the answer, so maybe I was a bit to blame.

BUT, I spent my time at home spray painting. It was my favorite thing, Ruby helped with the base , which was trees and other nature , shit she is good at, and I did portraits. Shit I'm good at.

I used the picture of Regina from the springs, the one where, you know, words can not describe the beauty of my wifey, right, then I put a space in her belly, where I painted a fetus, ugly, but it looks rad. Then I mused a picture of me pregnant with Henry, but, and she hated this, my belly had exploded and he was soaring through the air, to the lovely moon that Ruby had graced us with.

I thought that I was doing this for my baby, but I wasn't, because all I do is for her. I love my family, my babies, but I could have lived without giving them a second thought.

Before.

Before I met her, and fell in love, and she changed me, even though she never tried to, she did, just by breathing the same air as me, and running her split ends over my nose when she woke on rainy mornings. By sitting on the sill with me on those raining mornings, holding my head in her lap.

She changed me, and I'm better because of it, because of her.

So, whenever I buy almond milk instead of regular, or veggie straws instead of lays, or bubble gum instead of mint, or something else she likes; whenever I spend a month inhaling fumes, documenting our family on the walls surrounding our baby, I do it because I want to see if she thinks it's beautiful. I do it because I want to know that the little things I do make her feel like the center of the universe, like those she does for me.

I hope they do, I want to make sure she gets her chance to feel the way the Sun does.

That is, if the sun had emotions and knew that something's everything depends on it just existing.

"Okay, baby," I whispered, covering Bean with a sheet he couldn't reach, turning off the fan, so he wouldn't be cold. I sat with my legs crossed next to him, let him squeeze my hand for a minute until he fell back asleep, because that's what he likes, and that's what Regina would do.

If she was fucking here.

The last book that I read was called Handle with Care, it was by Jodi Picoult, and I guess read isn't the right word. I listened to it.

I used to have trouble falling asleep, it was about three years ago and I had just stopped taking anti-depressives after about four years of that, so everything was awful.

I don't like to think about the time when I started using, because all I can remember is how I kept telling myself to stop, then one more won't hurt, then it was just something I did.

It's not as if I was some sort of junkie, I just took one a day, so I was a functioning user, I wasn't strung out, I wasn't a danger to anyone, except myself, clearly. After three years, I started to experience lower back pain, so I took Vicodin for that, along with my antis, which had already started the failure of my kidneys, so taking the Vic along with it took me down the road to almost losing one kidney, having the other fail right along with it.

I can't explain the logistics, perks of having a doctor as a wife, she dealt with all the jargon and, between the looks of contempt, she told me I just had to get better.

And I did, and I am.

However, for a couple of months after I got back, I couldn't sleep, only ate when I had to, or when I was forced to, which is gross to think back on because I am a major foodie. Regina would sit with me in the bath before bed, lovely freedom of no baby, but that only lasted for a little under two years, sheer bliss. I always sound so bitter when I mention baby Bean, but I'm not, he's just a lot. I wanted a dog.

Anyways, we sat in the bath, with whatever weird bath chemicals she dosed the water with, and we sat, we laughed, sometimes, other times she would complain about her day, and I'd just listen. I loved hearing about the hospital, gross medical stories, the families, the wins, the losses, all of it.

Then we'd lay in bed, I would want to watch TV, but Regina had none of that, especially before bed, so we'd banter about shows we could watch, then I'd say music, she said she couldn't sleep with music on, I'd roll my eyes because she totally has, but not well, she said. Then she'd ignore me and pick up her book, I'd turn the lights on and off and lay on her legs, and I couldn't sleep, so I may as well have had fun. I did, no matter how annoyed she'd get. No matter how many times my ribs were bruised.

Then she would push me off the bed, I'd stay there, poking her with my toes since I'm a child. I would ask, 'what's happening,' 'did someone die,' 'this book looks boring,' then she would explain.

Handle with Care was about a family who's daughter has osteogenesis imperfecta, okay, this was years ago and I just remembered that, someone clap for me.

Anywho, it turned out really interesting, and if you could have met Regina, you would know why it was so relaxing to listen to her. Her voice was, magic, it was throaty, and it was soft, but harsh all at once. I guess it depended on how she spoke to you.

The book was written in different points of view, she would give each character a different tone. My favorite was the daughter, Amelia, the older sister who was rebellious and wanted more and more attention, she was funny and bitter, she had the most depth. The parents, they were too superficial, they were cookie cutter, but Amelia was that stereotypical teen, but with sprinkles, so better.

She read her with a valley accent, it always made me smile. After that, she would talk that way, or in any accents when she was cooking or putting on make up or whatever else she was doing. She said it made everything a little more fun. I liked when she used her Russian accent, the persona behind it was always rude, and thought bread was the best thing since sliced bread and before that, bread itself.

I tried to do her voices, I tried to narrate like her, but I wasn't cut out for the lifestlye. I wanted to hear if the front door opened, because we lived in a townhouse, so it was big enough to fit us all, we all had space, but small enough to the point that the space we had was limited to a window sill for us, the attic that was entered through Henry's room for him, and where ever Siren pleases when he is old enough to be allowed space.

I wanted to be quiet, so I could hear the alarm and have time to figure out whether or not I wanted to be mad at her, or hug her and breathe in the scent of what isn't home.

My favorite thing about hello's is that one person always get that cold whiff of somewhere else, and it's a strange thing to love, but little things I suppose. Smells, because they are the strongest sense connected to human memory, and I like to think that I can always remember the smell of a hello as someone's true scent. It's like, I can't smell my home after about thirty seconds of being here, but someone just saying hello to my home, would be able to smell it for weeks until it goes away.

My home, it smells like those gross moon cookies that you buy in line at the gas station because the frosting looks so good that the cookie just has to be the best thing you ever done tasted. It wasn't. So, my home smells like lying cookies and woodchips after is rains. Those ones under the swings at the park, the ones that penetrate you through your jeans and make you wonder if you will ever trust the swings again because shit hurts. I know, because I did that last week.

I wish that my house smelled like laundry or fruit, something that I could enjoy, but it fucking doesn't. So, for thirty seconds I have to live in the lies of moon cookies, and the feeling of worrying if I'm going to get staph from this fucking wood.

God, I love smells, I am glad that noses exist, not so glad that my house smells like sad childhood. Ah, sorry boys.

As I was saying, I love the smell of hellos, because it adds to the feeling, even when saying hello again, there's always something to notice. When Regina comes home the hospital, she smells like pinsol, latex, and formaldehyde. Those things, which smell awful, don't when it's coming in the form of being able to say hello to her again, because I take them in as a whole, and how I'm lucky to have this hello.

She told me that when I come home from the shop, I smell like latex and ink and cigarettes. I don't smoke, at least not on purpose, but I am slowly dying of possible lung cancer because on breaks Ruby comes into my room, in the back and smokes and talks about what she did, what she's gonna do. So, my whole space is like a plastic ashtray, with a leaky pen. Or something, I tried to make it real. It just isn't, I can't say, I smell like the shop because I could mean a butcher shop and I hate those, they always smell like, shit. That's it, they don't even deserve my over analyzed observation.

So, we got a hospital, and latex lung cancer. Quite a match.

Which, just so happens to contain on of the words in the title of the book that I have forced myself to read, to be mad. It's by the same author, because Regina loves her, and Dean Koonts, and medical journals, but that's about it. So it's called Perfect Match, and I am feeling spontaneous and will not even read the summary, but if i had to guess I would say it was about surrogate mom, some sort of donor, or soulmates.

Page 1.

Already bored. I can't read things when I am trying to decide whether or not I am going to be mad or glad! I can't read things at all.

Moving on, I'm going to go check on the boys. I like the house when it's dark and quite at night, the light shining it comes from the big windows over the door, lining the top wall that curves with the stairs, it's not moonlight, it's orange, so streetlights, or 'pale kissed in the moonlit night,' is very inaccurate.

I don't know if that is an actual line, but I thought of twilight.

In Siren's room, it's pitch black, since I closed the shutters so he wouldn't spook at the trees, but what if he's more scared of the dark? Eesh, but I feel like it'd be worse to see a shadow in the reflection of the window. I stand with my hand on the string for a good thirty seconds debating, hypothetically what kind of shadow my baby would be more afraid of should he wake up, should there be a shadow, should he see it, or die first.

That's one way ticket to therapy that won't even work.

In the end, I decide to keep it closed, and get the heck out before he notices I'm there. Across the hall and a few twirls, I open Henry's door, because he knows I will beat him down if he ever locks it. My one rule, good or bad? I may never know.

They're in the same spots, except Henry moved to his bed and now there's an actual gallon of gin on the floor, which pisses me off for two reasons;

1: Gin?

2: I tell him every time, to put shit away, no trace, or we have no deal.

I feel, gross, in the pit of my stomach because the jug is almost empty and I wonder how drunk they got, there's a couple of beers here and there and, he's just barely 16. I feel bad, because Regina hates this, or would, and I can't believe I let this happen.

Maybe I'm tired, maybe I'm finding ways to be a better mom if my wife leaves me forever, but I just don't feel like this is right. I know, I knew this from the start, but I just wanted my son to feel like he didn't have to sneak around, he could tell me if he was in trouble. I wanted him to know that he could call me from jail and I would be pissed, but not that pissed, but that he didn't need to go to jail. Meaning, hey, kids, can't get caught under Mama Emma's roof!

Maybe, not my best call. So, I picked up the bottle and went into the bathroom and dumped it, thinking an apology for feeding the toilet gin. Thinking an apology and accepting an I fucking knew it, from Regina, because she's right. Damn.

While I'm sitting, watching the liquid pour, burning my nose hairs, I hear the alarm. My first instinct, like a puppy, is 'yay!' then, it's 'fuck, where you been woman?'

I wait for her to come up the stairs but she doesn't, when the gin is gone, the toilet is flushed I look down from the railing into the foyer, there's a light coming from the hall leading to the garage. I tiptoe down the stairs, feeling like half naked James Bond and follow the light.

I don't smell hospital, I smell perfume, it's hers, because I bought it for her for some reason I don't remember, and I can't wrap my head around why she would be needing it, after working for over 24 hours, and not having time to call, or answer pages, or have even a fucking nurse call me, so now, now I was going with my second instinct and that was; pissed.

I don't feel the need to tiptoe as I walk into the garage to find her standing there with her head bow, arm resting against the shelf holding halloween decorations. I tilt my head, because I can't tell if she is crying or vomtting. I watch, I wait until she sees me.

She doesn't, not until after she grabs the shelf and starts to shake it, boxes toppling over, candy pumpkins clattering to the floor. I skip over, yes skip, and pull her arms down to her side, I didn't expect her to fucking jerk back, screaming to 'leave me the fuck alone,' and elbow me in the nose. When she pushes off me, she trips over a candy pumpkin and falls back, hitting her head on the shelf she had just being trying to give whiplash to.

I was holding my, I didn't know if, I couldn't remember if I was supposed to tilt my head back or forward, so I just gaped like I was trying not to swallow soapy water, let the blood actually fall to the floor. I looked up at her, thinking she'd passed out, but she saw crying, scratching her cheeks until they were raw.

"Regina.. I," I began, sitting cross legged more than 3 feet away from her. She looked like she was ready to go out, wearing a leather jacket, personally, my favorite one, it had all the layering and, and it was just cute, heeled ankle boots, and suede pants.. jeans? No?

"I said," she choked, sobbing as she tried to speak, "leave me the fuck alone, Em-ma." Her attempts to sound sassy should be noted.

Okay, hold up? What? "Excuse me?" I asked. "Where were you, where were you even going? I mean, where have you been?" I asked, because genuinely, genuinely wanted to know.

She just looked off into the corner, ignoring me like a fucking bitch, which was rude, considering.

"You know, I called, and Henry called, and Evelyn called, you seemed to have just-" I began.

"Emma, shut the fuck up! Just shut up!" She shouted, so loud it made my chest hurt, so loud her voice broke, then she started crying again, then she threw a wrench at my car.

I didn't know what to say, and I was almost crying and she was crying, it was a whole mess. So, I just curled my knees up and rocked on my bones, listening to her breathing heavily, trying to figure out for myself why this was happening, why she had thrown something at my car so hard there was now a hole in it. Why and why and why, was I still sitting out here.

After about twenty minutes, she tried to say something, but I had stopped looking at her after five and was curled into an upright ball, I didn't want to look at her, I don't know why, I just felt like something bad was going to happen and I didn't want it to, after all this time. I just couldn't.

"I," she sighed, "I am sorry." She said. I didn't look up, "I'm sorry if I.. scared you, I didn't mean it." She said, I could hear her moving towards me. "Emma," she said, her voice was weak, "Emma, I would never hurt you. I wouldn't.. I can't," I could see her hands, with black, or brown or purple polish, chipped, just about to touch my socks. "Please," she grabbed my heels and tried to pull.

Now, I suppose being a scared petty baby wouldn't get me anywhere, so I rest my chin on the crack between my knees and looked into her eyes, bloodshot, dilated before mine. "Are we done?" I asked, because it's the first question that came to mind, and I have no filter when I'm emotional. Or anytime really, but worse now. Like this, "because Regina, I swear, if you waited this long then I-"

I was cut off by the confusion of her placing her hands on the sides of my head and placing kisses on my nose and forehead, then placing her face against mine, shaking her head.

From this close, I could smell something else, I could smell rain, because it must have, she smelled like something I couldn't describe, but it made her strange and alien to me.

"I had to go back," she whispered. I could feel her tense up and try to pull me closer but at this angle, that was impossible. I think she knew, I think she knew but was trying to pull us in together so she wouldn't have to tell me anything. I would just know.

"To work? To?" I asked quietly.

"Back t-to where I came from." She said. New York. "I had to go and," she laughed, "and help my sister spread her ashes." She said, and when she did she relaxed, like a weigh had been lifted from her, like she could breath air now that wasn't through a straw. "I don't even remember going, or being there or-or coming back, because I," no. She didn't need to finish that sentence, because it was something we never talked about anymore.

Coke.

Everyone does drugs, different kinds, but everyone does them. Not everyone, keeps doing them, for some it's just a thing that happens and it's fun, or it's not. Then, for other people it happens for them, like it was always meant to be this way, and it is a revelation that built up over a lifetime of having something, missing.

At first, it's fun, and exciting, then it's fun and easy, then it is the only way to have fun. Or it was always just a way to forget, and keep on keepin' it gone.

For her, it happened in Med School, when her room mates in the house she had been staying in were just trying to help 'boost her study habits,' and that's what they did, so soon so did she, she was brilliant without it, but this way she could stay up longer and cram more and more and just when her brain was about ready to burst, it'd be right there.

After she started her internship, she used it for the night shift. She didn't trust herself to stay awake without it, and I knew, about the job. I didn't know about the using until she moved in with me after a year, and after her mates had sold her printer.

I found it, in the faucet in the hallway, which had no purpose, except running water, we never used it, but the one time I did, it came out.

She told me, it wasn't hers, but it wasn't mine, and I wasn't mad, I just wanted her to be okay, because God knows I know what it's like to not be okay. She said I could toss it, she didn't need, but I knew it didn't work like that, so we wrote it out. How to ween her off it.

It only took a couple of months, she wasn't too heavy with it, but enough, and then it was all better.

Until yesterday. Right now.

"Hey," I cooed, I felt like I was talking to someone smaller. I was. I was, because she wasn't her, she was weak and vulnerable. "Shh, sh, it's fine, you're fine," I held her, so she could breathe until she was okay, because I said she would be.

I heard it as she choked on a sob, and shook as she tried to speak, "and you forgive me?" She asked. I nodded, kissed her head, then stay there.

"You did nothing wrong." I told her, because it's what she needed to hear, and because it's true.


End file.
